Dreams And Shadows
by Mileharo Kerran
Summary: ...Goodbye, Little Fairy. I shall miss you...' But no one was to hear the words. And no one was to see that something trailed behind the little fairy as she flew away. For the night was dark, and so was that something... Ch15 up! Spoilers in the reviews.
1. The Boy Who Dreamed

**Dreams and Shadows, ****by Mileharo Kerran**

_This is my second attempt at writing fan fiction, and I think I've put in a considerably greater effort this time. I'm having a lot of difficulty finding words, but I hope this fic would do well enough to please. I forgot to put in a disclaimer in the first fic, so I'm saying it now: I do not own Peter Pan, the Darlings, the Never Land and all its pirates and Indians and mermaids and fairies, not in any technical way. They belong to J. M. Barrie, for whom we should all be thankful for. Of course, if you would look at it in another way, Never Land also belongs to me and to you, and we all belong to it. Anyway, that's just a way of seeing things. This fic's not finished, but I still hope you can read on and enjoy. Works best if you read it aloud in a story-telling voice, heheh. Reviews wouldn't be too bad, either. :)_

**CHAPTER ONE: ****The Boy Who Dreamed**

There was once a little boy who lived in London. If a person would look at this little boy, he would find nothing particularly outstanding about him. He was not particularly good-looking, he was not particularly good in school, he was not particularly good in games… in fact, he was rather ordinary. He came from an ordinary family: his father was an ordinary assistant in the chemist's and his mother was an ordinary librarian. His older siblings – for he was the youngest – were just ordinary older siblings.

But if one would look closer at his eyes, he would see that they sparkle with the most extraordinary light. What it was exactly, nobody knew, but that was exactly why the sparkle was so special.

Every Saturday afternoon, when the weather permitted it, his mother would take him for a stroll through the park. As they walked through the leafy paths, she would regale him with the most amazing stories that she had read from the library books. Of course, she knew that being a boy, her son would be most interested about pirates and Indians and other such fearsome entities, so her stories were mostly about them. But being a girl herself, she couldn't help but interspersethe tales with mermaids and fairies and the like.

And so the boy lived his days most ordinarily. But when night came, when sleep whispered its secrets to the world, he dreamt. And because little children have the keenest ears for such secrets, their dreams are ever so much more wonderful than grown-up dreams, and there was no ear more keen than this little boy's.

In his dreams, he always came to this curious place. He had no name for it; at first he did not even know that it was actually just one place, for it was, indeed, very huge. The jungles were thick in their greenness, mysterious in their very depths; the seas were vast against the endlessly extending blue skies above. He became acquainted with the pirates and the Indians and the mermaids and the fairies, and all the other beings which walked the lands of That Wonderful Place. Some nights he would discover a new hidden niche, and in time he became quite familiar with many of That Wonderful Place's nooks and crannies. Many, but not all, because that place was, indeed, very huge.

He spoke to no one of this place, for his older siblings would scoff and ridicule him for entertaining himself with such childish thoughts. Pirates and mermaids, indeed!

His father had an even shorter patience for what he called "immature imaginings," and constantly reminded him that when he grew up, he was to be a Respectable Somebody if he wanted to live a more-than-just-ordinary life, and that the way to become that is to use his eyes to see the real world, and not the world of his fantasies. The boy resented his father's speeches, but somehow he knew there must be a point, for fathers know things.

And so he kept his dreams to himself, not even sharing them with his mother, though he knew those stars in her eyes to be a sure sign of her also being a frequent visitor to That Wonderful Place.


	2. A Fairy's Curiosity

**Dreams and Shadows, ****by Mileharo Kerran**

**CHAPTER TWO: ****A Fairy's Curiosity**

The winds rush about exchanging the most delightful secrets, and if one only knew how to listen to them, one would indeed know of the most intriguing things. But the winds being the flighty things that they are, have mangled their own language that even they themselves have a hard time understanding each other.

Tinker Bell had always been a curious fairy, and she had quite a sharp ear that was always ready for the most interesting things. So when she came to understand snatches of the winds' conversations, she became especially interested in what they spoke about the children's dreams. In their dreams, there were whispers of things and places which were completely unknown and mysterious to the little fairy.

She heard of Arithmetic and Kindergarten School and Hopscotch, and of other queer-sounding words. Naturally, her interest was roused, and she wondered if Football was a strange fruit, and if it tasted as disgusting as its name sounded. For many, many, many days she sat by herself atop a craggy cliff where the winds blew strongest, holding on tight to a piece of the root of a dead tree which stuck out from the hard ground. She listened until she felt quite dizzy from the winds' aimless whooping.

For many, many, many more days she thought of all she had heard. She went about doing her little fairy things and tried talking to the other fairies about these strange words, but they looked at her with with either disinterest or scorn, that she decided she would be better off thinking her thoughts alone. She did just that, sometimes returning to that outcropping of rock where the winds blew strongest. Finally, she could contain her curiosity no more and decided to find out just what those things exactly were.

She had understood enough of the winds' language to know how to ask her questions. Clearing her throat daintily, she spoke.

"Excuse me."

The winds were flying and shouting about so wildly that they did not even notice the little fairy. Tinker Bell called out again, in a much louder voice. "Excuuuuse meeee!"

In her eagerness she let go of the dry root on which she had wrapped her appendages around, and one particularly feisty gust of wind managed to blow her away with it. Tinker Bell shrieked her displeasure, and only then did the winds hear her. They quieted down a little, so the fairy was able to flap her own wings and hover.

"Yesssss?" They asked.

"What are yooouhoo whooo are youoooo why are youuuu?" Another gust of wind howled.

"I only wanted to know how you knew of those things," she inquired politely.

"Oh, yesss, we knowhoooo --" "Thingssss!" "We blowhhhhhh!" "We knowhhhhhh!"

They were all talking at the same time that Tinker Bell didn't quite know which one to listen to, so she addressed the gust of wind that took her on his back.

"How do you get there?" she asked, a little less politely, for she was getting impatient.

"We knowhhhhh!" "We blowhhhhh!" "Blow highhhhhh!" "Blow lowhhhhhh!"

She realized she could get nothing from this "conversation" and was keenly disappointed. In her anger she shot off into the sky, glowing red with her emotions.

She continued her upward flight, until she had surpassed the point that was the highest any fairy or bird or any other thing in that place had ever flown. From that vantage point, she noticed that the line where the sea and the sky met was rather blurred. In fact, the sea and the sky did not meet at all, but was one. It wasn't exactly clear, either, whether it was a line or a point or a curve, for the harder she stared at it, the more blurred it seemed to her, as if the line or point or curve was avoiding her gaze.

She did not realize that she was flying towards that line or point or curve, or that she was going at a very great speed. Was she even flying anymore? Or was _it _pulling her into it?

And then, quite suddenly, with a deafening bang that left her ears ringing, she was _in _it. She was pierced with the brightest shafts of color, blindingly brilliant, wonderfully warm. For endless moments, she floated in it, laughing loudly in ecstasy, until the colors melted away into distant points of bright lights, which seemed to look like dazzlingly shining fairies themselves, except that they were not moving, and that they were so far, far away.

In another blink of an eye, the lights rearranged themselves until they were all in front of her. And then they were no longer the brilliant spots in that endless blackness, but somber, sober pinpricks in the night sky.

And that was how the first ever being breached the Barrier and arrived at a cool summer night in London.


	3. A Place Called London

**Dreams and Shadows****, by Mileharo Kerran**

**CHAPTER THREE: ****A Place Called London**

Tinker Bell flew through the cool night, and because the sky was dark, the moon having hidden her face from the uncaring world, the little fairy was drawn towards the bright lights of the city.

She explored the streets of London, and marvelled at all she saw. She was especially amazed by those huge grey blocks of somethings which stood side by side along the very straight strips of yet another grey something on the ground. She did not know that those grey strips on the ground were the pavement, for there was neither the need nor the space for pavements in the jungle where she came from. She also did not know that the huge grey blocks of somethings were buildings and houses, for her idea of a house was a cozy hole in a tree lined with the softest moss and the most comfortable dry leaves one could pick up from the forest floor.

She noticed that the huge grey somethings had rectangular holes along their surfaces, some of which were illuminated. She approached one of them in her usual fairy hurriedness, so that when she hit an invisible barrier she was very much shocked and flattened, and her wings crumpled from behind her. She did not know about glass, and as she slid down the cold and hard surface with a groan and her eyes crossed in pain, she cursed its magic. For it was, to Tinker Bell, very strange and new, and in her awe magical.

When she sagged into the outer window sill – the rectangular hole was, of course, a window – she gave herself a moment to recover, and then her curiosity was back, and more carefully this time she peeped into the illuminated inside of the house.

There were two people sitting in cozy chairs. Both were holding a pair of pointed sticks in their hands which were stuck through soft-looking masses piled on their laps. The pile looked larger on the younger figure's lap, and Tinker Bell soon saw why. When the woman adjusted herself to a more comfortable position, the soft pile was dislodged, and the fairy saw a large bulge where the woman's stomach should have been. As Tinker Bell watched, the two women moved their sticks against each other, and two balls of string jumped merrily up and down the floor as the sticks ate them away slowly.

"Oh, Mother," the younger woman was saying, "I am just so excited! If it is a little girl I shall name her Susanna. Wouldn't it be the sweetest thing?" The words were accompanied by smile and a faraway look as the sticks momentarily halted.

"Yes, wouldn't it?" was all Mother said, her eyes never leaving her knitting.

"Of course Harry wants a boy," the woman continued, "and if it turns out to be a boy he shall be named _Adolphus_." The last was punctuated with a dark look and a shudder. "Harry is most insistent. He said he wanted something to remember his Old Uncle Addy by. I have nothing against that dear man, Mother, but – _Adolphus_ -- !"

"Hmm…" Obviously, Mother was not listening.

Tinker Bell soon lost interest, so she flew away from the window, and peeped in through others. She saw all sorts of people in their nightly routines. Old grandmothers and grandfathers were snoring in their beds; cranky babies were being bounced against the shoulders of their even crankier and harassed nurses; young men were hunched over dimly lit desks, their fingers smeared with ink as they struggled to put their ideas to paper; mothers with the softest voices were telling their tales to little children who were nodding off to sleep.

All of this was very interesting and new, and Tinker Bell aprreciated all that she had learned that night, but found her own eyes drooping persistently as she sat on the cold window sills. She had been flying about all night – in a very strange place, no less -- so it was only right that weariness was begging her to rest already.

She looked up and down the street, but the few trees she found looked so very scrawny in their tree boxes that she knew she would not find a comfortable spot in them to rest her tired wings. With the last of her energy, she forced herself to fly again, away from the huge blocks of grey somethings and the lights hanging by those strange leafless trees that stood so very straightly, their trunks a strange black color.

At last she came upon the comforting familiarity of a jungle. In Tinker Bell's opinion, the trees in this jungle were so very thinly spread, and were nowhere near the size of the trees she was used to back home. Of course, she did not know it, but she had not come upon a jungle, for there had not been a jungle in what was now known as London for many thousands of years, and new jungles dared not sprout in that area, for they would only find the huge grey blocks of somethings very unfriendly, the long grey strips on the ground even more so.

She went about the park – yes, that was what Tinker Bell's jungle was—looking for a nice spot, and she found it in a crook between two branches of a willow tree whose arms were swaying in the light wind, the very tips touching the grass by its roots. The spot needed no further furnishing, for it was already covered with a cushion of the tree's fallen leaves. With nary another thought, the exhausted fairy settled down and closed her eyes, and almost instantly she was asleep.

-------

Tinker Bell was awakened the next morning by the delighted shrieks of little children that were playing in the park. It was a Saturday, and there was no school, and as the fairy strained her eyes against the glare of the late morning sunshine, she saw that the park was filled with children and their Mothers and their Fathers and their Nursies. There were even a few dogs that jumped about with the children.

It was a feast for the most curious of minds, and Tinker Bell stretched her arms and her wings in excited anticipation of another day of new discoveries. But before she could bounce out of her cozy nest, a squeaky voice startled her.

"Excuse me, but where are the nuts?"

The fairy almost jumped out of her skin when she heard this voice so close to her ear. She saw that the speaker was a squirrel, and the bushy-tailed animal was already burrowing into her pile of leaves. The fairy thought it was rather rude of him, and drew her breath in preparation for her indignant speech. But before she could say anything, the squirrel continued, without ceasing from his frantic digging, "I can't find them! I can't find them!"

Tinker Bell's anger dissipated when she saw the animal's agitation. "Find what?" she asked.

"The nuts I left here yesterday! Or was it the day before yesterday?" In his attempt to remember the when of the matter, his little paws left the pile of leaves and one of them settled beneath his lip in a most thoughtful expression. Only then did he see the fairy, and his eyes became round in surprise.

"Why, you've got the strangest feathers!" The animal stared at Tinker Bell's glowing skin and her pale, transluscent wings. "Aren't you the queerest bird I've ever seen!"

The fairy took offense. "Bird! I am no bird! I am a fairy!" she declared airily.

"A fairy? That's the first I've heard of it," the rodent said as if he did not believe her.

"And you are the rudest animal I have ever met!" Tinker Bell cried. Actually, that was not true; just last week a snake came up her tree back home and asked if she would not mind being eaten for breakfast. Presently, the incident conveniently slipped the fairy's memory.

At that moment, as Tinker Bell stood with her hands on her hips as she scolded the squirrel, she heard the rustling of leaves behind her and saw the squirrel's eyes widen in alarm. Before she knew it, the squirrel had planted his paws into her shoulder and knocked her down. Something huge whizzed past them, and her hair stood as she felt the air rushing behind the _thing_.

"What was that?" she asked as she picked herself up, shaken.

"That," said the squirrel in a very grave voice, still lying stunned on the pile of leaves, "was a football."

So Tinker Bell learned that a Football was something to be avoided not because it tasted offensive, but because it flew about it the most unpredictable manner.

Then she heard voices slowly getting nearer. "Where is it?" "Have you seen where it landed?"

The squirrel jumped to his feet when he heard these voices, and cried in alarm.

"What's wrong?" asked Tinker Bell, confused.

"Children! Quick! Hide!" The rodent's chatter grew more frantic with each word.

"Why? What's wrong with them?"

"What's wrong? What's wrong! Those children will set your tail on fire if they catch you, and they'll force you to eat the most awful things you can give a name to!" The squirrel owed this information to an unlucky experience of having been captured before by two boys who were especially mean. As he bounded down the tree, the search for the lost nuts forgotten, Tinker Bell heard him cry, "Don't be seen, little bird! Don't be seen!" And then he was gone.

In her fright, she burrowed herself into the pile of leaves, but her hiding proved to be vain when one of the children climbed right up the tree as he looked for the lost football, and saw the shaking pile of dry leaves. A grubby hand dug around and closed itself around the fairy's waist, and then the boy cried out to the others: "Look here, mates! Look what I found!"

In his excitement he shook poor Tinker Bell, but the fairy recovered enough of her wits to bite the boy's finger with her sharp little teeth. The boy howled in pain and let go of her.

"Oww! It bit me! It bit me! The fairy bit me!"

The other children crowded below him and laughed.

"Fairy! Haha! Iggy here's seeing fairies! Hahahah!"

"Fairies, indeed! There's no such thing as – "

Before the child could finish the sentence that would have doomed Tinker Bell, another one of their playmates cried out from farther off, "I've found the ball!"

And so Tinker Bell was saved by a Found Football, and she softened her initial opinion of that thing in her gratitude.


	4. Hello

**Dreams and Shadows, ****by Mileharo Kerran**

**CHAPTER FOUR: ****Hello**

Tinker Bell became more wary of this new place, but her curiosity remained, so now she made her observations from a safe distance, keeping herself well-hidden from other eyes. For many days she listened and looked, and learned even more of the place which she came to know as London.

But in time she began to miss her home, especially whenever she became hungry, for the few wild berries and nuts she found in the park were usually small and sometimes even wormy, and she remembered with a pang in her heart and in her stomach that the berries from her jungle were numerous and plump and sweet.

Tinker Bell, however, had one problem. She did not know how to get back home. Yes, she tried many times flying straight up into the heavens, looking for that line or point or curve where the sky and sea were one, but this world was ruled by too much logic that it was almost impossible for anything to be simultaneously a line and a point and a curve, or the sea and the sky at the same time. _Almost_, but not completely impossible, for as long as little children dreamed of magic and believed in it, magic was alive.

She was getting desperate about her situation that she became careless about staying hidden, and one afternoon, after countless failed attempts, she fluttered defeated down to the nest that had become her home in this strange land, mindless of anything else around her save for the dull ache she felt inside her chest, which she had no name for, but which we can all recognize as loneliness and homesickness.

-------

He did not know what it was that fell from the heavens; he only knew that it was something one does not see everyday. He wondered if that shining thing was a star that the heavens had let go of, but dismissed the idea, seeing that it was simply too early in the day for stars to fall. It was not even four o'clock in the afternoon!

He covertly passed his gaze to where his older sister stood talking with two of her friends. He hated it when Mother was not the one who took him for a walk, because that meant that he would have to be stuck with his older sister and her friends an entire afternoon. While he loved his sister dearly, he despised their silly gossiping about what _this_ girl had worn at _that_ party or if _that_ boy really did say _this_ outrageous thing.

His mother had not been feeling very well that day; she was not even up to the task of going to work. She had the symptoms of a bad cold, but insisted that it was nothing to worry about too much. His older sister had instantly volunteered to take him for a walk, if only to get away from having to take care of a sneezy mother.

The thing that he did not like most about these afternoons was that there would be no story to hear. Except, of course, if he wanted to listen to accounts of the latest love matches or high fashions that were the rage of the moment. While he loved reading from the books his mother brought home, nothing can quite match his mother's stories, especially when her eyes twinkle with that special light as she tells them. He knew that he would soon outgrow these stories, in the same manner that he was outgrowing his breeches. But for the present, those stories felt as comfortingly real as his old baby blanket that was still his nightly companion whenever he slept. Comfortingly real, but potently magical.

And so he lay by himself near the roots of a willow tree that he particularly favored. He was looking up with half-closed eyes at the leaves of the tree, the fingers of sunlight dancing among them and beneath his own lids. At first he did not see that _thing_ falling from high up because of those shafts of sunlight, but when he did see _it_, he shot up into a sitting position and squinted his eyes for a better view.

No, he was not seeing things. There really was a strange something that was falling from the heavens. When he saw that his sister was not looking, he scrambled up into the tree's lower branches and proceeded to climb higher. When he looked up again, he saw that the thing was not actually falling, but flying down. Right down into his tree, that willow tree that he particularly favored. With a sudden movement, he outstretched his hand and caught the thing as it approached.

The thing in his hand was definitely no star, for though it was warm against the skin of his palm, it did not look hot enough to be something that could shine so patiently all night. His mother had once told him that starlight never goes out, not like a candle that would only last as long as its tallow does, and not even when the day was bright and they disappear from view. He knew that such a light would indeed be very hot, for he had once touched a curious finger to the flame of the candle that stood on the table by his bed, and got a nasty burn for the effort. How much more can starlight burn a little finger, if its light can outlast that of a thousand candles?

Another thing that made him sure that this thing was no star was that it wiggled impatiently from his grasp, squeaking and tinkling wildly in outrage. Stars twinkled, but never wiggled, else one would find the night sky difficult to stare at for longer than a few seconds at a time.

He knew of only one thing that behaved like the something in his hand, but he had only seen it in his dreams. When he saw its minuscule fists pounding uselessly against his fingers and the wings that were still fluttering delicately, he was certain.

The something in his hand was a Fairy.

-------

"Let go of me! Let go of me, you Crazy Boy! Aieeek!"

Tinker Bell struggled to be free, but her efforts seemed to have no effect. She remembered the technique she had used on that other boy, the one with the grubby hand. She had almost applied her sharp little teeth on the fingers of this boy with the relatively cleaner digits, but then the boy spoke.

"Do not be afraid, Little Fairy." The voice instantly soothed away her fear, and for some reason reminded her more of home. "I will not harm you."

"You will not set fire to my tail?" Tinker Bell asked, still not completely convinced.

"But Fairy, you have no tail to set fire to!" the boy replied with a delighted laugh. Slowly he opened his hand until the fairy was sitting in the curve of his cupped palm. She did not know that it was a very amazing thing to have a boy understand her language.

"What is your name, Little Fairy?" the boy asked, his voice ever gentle.

"I am Tinker Bell."

"Hmm… I have heard of you, Tinker Bell. I am very pleased to meet you." The boy offered a finger for shaking, but the fairy just stared at it, for she was yet unacquainted with the practice of shaking hands. He gingerly took her hand with his forefinger and his thumb and took care not to shake it too hard, lest he injure that delicate appendage. He told her his name in return so that they may be properly introduced, but he need not have bothered, for henceforth she addressed him only as "Boy."

And so, like the Football, her initial opinion of boys was forever changed by this very gentlemanly little soul.

"Why are you so sad, Tinker Bell?"

Her wings drooped forlornly behind her with the question, and she told him why. The boy did not reply to her sad admission, but instead asked what her home was like. She told him with a lot of animated gestures about her tree, about her jungle, about the sea and the sky and the pirates and the mermaids and all the other beings which walked that land. He nodded thoughtfully at each description, now and then murmuring politely that her home indeed sounded like a marvellous place. Of course he already knew about it, for he was quite familiar with many of That Wonderful Place's nooks and crannies.

In return, he graciously described to her the many places and things in London as best as he could, and in return she nodded thoughtfully at each description, now and then murmuring politely that his London indeed sounded like a marvellous place. Of course she already knew about it, for she had listened before to those flighty winds and then to those people who strolled through the park, and learned much.

After quite a long time, the boy heard his sister calling his name. He reluctantly bade the fairy goodbye, saying that he could not take her with him because his family would not understand. But he promised her that he would be back next Saturday, so they could talk again.

"And Tinker Bell, don't let other people see you. They will not understand either. Stay hidden!" And then he scrambled down the tree in much the same way as that squirrel did many days ago. And then he was gone.

Tinker Bell felt even sadder than before. Her loneliness had disappeared when she met the boy, and her homesickness was relieved when she saw that special light in his eyes that reminded her of home for reasons which she could not understand. But now both emotions returned with a vengeance. It seemed that Next Saturday could not come quickly enough.


	5. Goodbye

**Dreams and Shadows, ****by Mileharo Kerran**

**CHAPTER FIVE: ****Goodbye**

Next Saturday did come, though the time between the two Saturdays sped on ever so slowly for Tinker Bell.

She waited restlessly for the boy to come, now and then taking a peek between the branches of the willow. When she saw him, she forgot all the care she was trying to take in staying hidden, and had almost escaped the willow's embrace when she noticed that his eyes were trying to tell her something. She stopped on her tracks, and only then noticed that a woman was walking beside the boy.

If a person would look at this woman, he would find nothing particularly outstanding about her. But if one would look closer at her eyes, he would see that they sparkle with the most extraordinary light. What it was exactly, nobody knew, but that was exactly why the sparkle was so special.

"Mother," the boy said. "Let us take our rest here beneath this willow. Does it not look positively cozy to you? There, right between those roots?"

"Why, yes, sweetheart, it does, doesn't it?. Come, sit beside me." Mother arranged her skirts as she sat, with no thought of all the dirt the thick material could pick up from the ground. "Now, where was I? Ah, yes, the pirate Smee. He was a most curious pirate, for he was ever so polite even when they came pillag—"

Her son interrupted rather abruptly, "No, Mother, I would hear no more about those pirates. Tell me about that fairy Tinker Bell instead." The last was said with an upward glance, and when the surprised Tinker Bell looked down at him, he gave her a wink.

And so Tinker Bell heard about herself from the boy's mother, and was pleased. She was, after all, quite vain, and in her amusement she giggled at particularly entertaining spots. The two people nestled between the tree's roots below heard her tinkling laughter, but only the boy recognized it for what it was.

-------

It became a routine that every Saturday, the boy and his mother would "take their rest" beneath the branches of Tinker Bell's willow, and the fairy heard more and more tales of her home. But she was no longer able to speak to the boy, for his mother was never sick again, and always was beside him when he got to the tree.

It came to the point that Tinker Bell no longer felt that one Saturday a week was enough time to see the boy or hear his mother's stories of the fairy's home. It was not even an entire day at that, but a mere slip of an afternoon.

And so she decided to follow them back to their house one day, despite of her fear of being seen. She had some trouble accomplishing the feat, for the late afternoon sun was still bright enough that there was no need yet of the street lights which she could disguise herself as, sho she had to content herself with two large leaves with which she covered herself as she flew. It was not a very effective disguise, and indeed some people saw her, but they were all afraid of being laughed at if they admitted to having seen the fairy.

When they arrived at the boy's home, which was a two-storey house of a modest size, Tinker Bell stayed outside and flew up to one of the closed windows. She waited by the sill, holding on to the two large leaves in an effort to dim her light, especially as it became more noticable when the skies started to darken. It was purely by chance that the window was that of the boy's bedroom, and when she saw that he had entered, she promptly threw the leaves and zoomed about most excitedly, trying to catch his attention.

When he saw her, he rushed to the window and unlatched it. Tinker Bell flew right in and proceeded to tickle him. "I have missed you!" she whooped.

The boy rolled around the floor in his merriment as he tried to escape the fairy's affectionate gestures. As the fairy flew about him, some of her shining dust got stuck on him, and the boy's joyous laughter only made the effect of the dust much more potent, that in seconds he was up in the air. He only laughed harder when he realized that he was flying, and Tinker Bell took a hold of a shank of his hair and made him follow her around the room.

"I'm flying! Look at me, I am flying! Hahahah!"

"I can see that, you silly boy!" the fairy laughed back indulgently. "You need not shout it out for all of London to hear!"

It was a good thing that nobody saw them flying inside the boy's room, else his family would have been accused of practicing the most powerful witchcraft even in that very modern and informed time. Sadly, it had become easier for people to believe in such a dark thing as witchcraft than in the beautiful magic of fairycraft.

After long moments of flying around, the boy landed sitting on his bed. He held out his hand for the fairy to step into.

"Why did you follow us home, my Fairy? You could have been seen!" The trace of worry was overshadowed by the happiness in his voice.

"I wanted to see you, of course," she replied with a saucy tilt of her head.

"How have you been, Tinker Bell?"

She told him she was becoming more and more bored and homesick as the days passed, especially at night, when all that embraced her was the cold arms of the frost that slowly poured in as the autumn faded into winter. "But I do not know the way," she concluded with a despairing little sigh.

The boy was silent for a long time. When he spoke, his voice came out in a very low tone.

"I have always known the way, Little Fairy."

Tinker Bell was shocked by his admission. "Why did you not tell me before?" She stomped her foot in her frustration. "You know how much I had wanted to go home that first day we met! Why did you not tell me!"

The boy fell silent once again. Tinker Bell crumpled in his hand, tears falling from her eyes. It seemed to the boy that it was impossible for such a small body to hold so much water, but Tinker Bell's did just that.

"I am sorry, Tinker Bell. It's just that… it's just that I wanted to always see you, and not just in my dreams… I am sorry, please do not cry anymore!" the boy beseeched.

After a while, the fairy's sobs were reduced to a few hiccups, and once again, she stood, shakily this time, on the boy's hand.

"Tell me how," was all she said.

"Alright," the boy began, ever reluctant. "Listen well, Little Fairy, for the journey to your land is tricky, if you are not familiar with the way yet." As he spoke, the fairy saw the special light in his eyes brighten even more, until it looked to her like two stars shone from within them, and she was entranced. "Look outside, Tinker Bell. You see how many stars there are? It would be so easy to get lost, if one does not take care. Can you not see the way?"

Tinker Bell looked. And looked. And looked even more. The night sky was peppered with an infinity of stars. They all looked the same to her, though each of them tried very hard to twinkle their special way to be noticed by the little fairy. No, she could see nothing special about the night sky.

The boy gently laid a finger against the fairy's cheek and turned her little head to face his own. The stars in his eyes shone ever so much brighter. "Little Fairy… find your way home." It was almost a command.

And then she saw, and she wondered how she could have missed it before. She gasped in her awe, and the boy heard it, and knew that she had seen. Perhaps the other stars had been twinkling too hard that she did not see, for those two stars cared not about the others, and shined without effort, and that was why they were special.

They looked like the stars in the boy's eyes.

"Second to the right, and then straight on till morning."

In her excitement, she shot out of the boy's hand, forgetting to even thank him for his help. But when she got to the window, she heard a soft voice saying, "Goodbye, Tinker Bell. I shall never forget you." She suddenly stopped mid-air. Slowly, she looked back at the boy, and saw that his eyes have lost their light, replaced by a very deep sadness.

And then, in a flash of starlight, an idea struck her head. "Come away with me!" she cried. "Come away with me and see for yourself the jungles and the sea and the sky!"

She bounced around the room, pleased with herself and her brilliant idea.

"No."

That one word, spoken in a very low but decisive tone, caused her to lose her direction, and she hit the wall with a painful splat.

"I cannot, Tinker Bell. The way is long, and I have only learned how to fly."

Tinker Bell shook her head in an effort to clear it after her collision with the wall. "That is the silliest excuse I have ever heard!" She was irritated by the boy's attempt at reasoning. "It is not as if you could forget how to fly _while_ we are flying!"

"No. I will not go. I am needed here. I must become a man, and grow up to be a Respectable Somebody."

Tinker Bell did not realize that the words that came out of the boy's mouth were so very different from those his heart spoke. The boy really _did_ want to go, but neither one of them realized that he was growing up with every word that he spoke. She alighted on the boy's hand once again.

"Why? Why do you need to grow up? Come with me, and you'll never have to worry about grown-up things again!"

"Never?"

"Never."

Had Tinker Bell come a few days earlier, she probably would have been able to convince the boy to come with her. But a lot can happen in a week, and Tinker Bell did not know it, but between the two Saturdays, something new had come into the boy's heart that had filled him with so much wonder. Whenever that something new made itself known, he felt as if he was flying, as if a fairy had sprinkled her dust all over him. But he did not explain this to Tinker Bell, for it was his greatest secret that nobody was to know about.

And so all he said was, "Never is an awfully long time."

Tinker Bell knew she had been defeated, and her heart broke. With not another word, she took off into the sky with all its stars.

"Goodbye, Little Fairy. I shall miss you…" But no one was to hear the words.

And no one was to see that something trailed behind the little fairy as she flew away. For the night was dark, and so was that something.


	6. A Place Called Never Land

**Dreams and Shadows, ****by Mileharo Kerran**

**CHAPTER SIX: ****A Place Called Never Land**

Tinker Bell focused all her attention on those two stars, trying not to look at anything else lest she might get lost. She had a hard time doing it, for elation and a deep sadness elbowed each other for space inside her very little heart. Elation because she was going back home, and deep sadness because she was leaving the boy behind.

And so she flew out of London's cold night, back into that blackness with the distant frozen fairy lights, until the lights once again danced and grew ever brighter and wilder, as if they were live things. As before, they pierced her heart with the sharpest of ecstasies, and that was why it took quite some time for her to notice that something was slowing her down as she flew.

That something, of course, was the dark something that held on to her as she was leaving the boy. As the fairy flew through the dizzying dancing colors, she felt a tug on her foot, and when she looked behind, she saw that dark something. At first, it was a wispy slip of a thing, but when the shards of light pierced that something dark, it took shape. Slowly, oh so very slowly, as she watched with her eyes wide and her mouth open, the fluttery thing transformed itself into… a hand.

The littlest finger was curled around her ankle, and in her panic, Tinker Bell shook her leg, and the finger lost its grip. Slowly, oh so slowly, the hand grew, until it became an arm. And then a shoulder attached itself to that arm. And then a torso. And then the other hand and two legs. And then the neck. And then…

She was looking at the head of the boy.

She blinked at him in her surprise, and then the boy blinked back at her.

"Who are you?" The boy asked, his voice curious but not alarmed.

Tinker Bell did not understand how this magic came to happen, but she was grateful, and so very happy.

"I am Tinker Bell, and I am your fairy."

"And who am I?" The voice inquired further.

And so Tinker Bell told him that he was her Boy. By this time they had arrived above the jungles of Tinker Bell's home. The boy looked beneath them as they hovered, taking in all the magnificent sights, and was pleased.

"Ah, the Never Land." He did not know how he knew, and neither did the fairy. But once That Wonderful Place heard the name, it claimed it for its own, so ever after it introduced itself as Never Land to all who came.

Tinker Bell led him down, and seeing that he had no clothes on, she flew about the forest plucking the prettiest leaves she saw, and with the help of some vines attached them to the boy's body in order to give him a semblance of modesty. Of course she was embarrassed, but her pink glow was not noticed by the boy who was busy looking everywhere around him, but even if he did, he would not have understood what had caused them. For he was, as anyone would know, the epitome of the innocence of children.

And so the boy remained Tinker Bell's, and Tinker Bell remained the boy's fairy, and for a very, very long time they flew about the Never Land and were happy.


	7. A Hidden Kiss

**Dreams and Shadows, ****by Mileharo Kerran**

**CHAPTER SEVEN: ****A Hidden Kiss**

He feared the day that somebody would notice that he was missing his right hand's shadow. He had known it had somehow left London with the fairy that night almost a year ago, as if it was his own desperate attempt to somehow get to Never Land.

Yes, he knew the name of That Wonderful Place now, for that very night that Tinker Bell left, when he once again dreamed of that place, it had proudly re-introduced itself to him. The show-off had even taken the trouble of making the leaves of its jungles ever greener as they rustled, its seas ever more treacherous as its waves crashed against the ever more forbidding rocks, the pirates ever more fearsome and the mermaids ever more mysterious. The entire place behaved as if it had donned a new dress as it flaunted its new name, and so the boy had never seen the place so beautiful as it was that time.

But as time passed he visited Never Land less and less often in his dreams, as he came to dream more and more often of something entirely new, but just as wonderful, only in a different way.

It happened a few days before that fateful Saturday almost a year ago, that Saturday that the fairy bade him farewell. As he was walking on his way home from school in his usual daydreaming state, his foot slipped on the icy pavement. He landed on his back with a dull thud and a pained "oof," and he lay stunned for many moments. As he stared at the grey sky, a face loomed in his view.

"Are you alright?" the upside-down face asked in a girl's voice.

He immediately sat up, and the girl helped him to his feet, and even dusted off the shoulders of his coat.

"Thank you," he said. "I am fine now."

"Good," she nodded. "I'm Mary Cullen." She stuck out her hand to him in a brisk but friendly manner.

"Hello," he said as he shook her hand. "My name's George Darling. Pleased to meet you."

He was startled when Mary Cullen cried out, "Oh! You've hurt yourself!"

And it was true. On the back of his hand was a nasty scratch, and there was a little blood in it. He had not felt its presence until the girl pointed it out. He was even more startled when the girl suddenly lifted up his hand, which still held her own, to her lips and placed a kiss on it. And then the girl gasped as if she had surprised herself with her own impulsive action.

"Oh, I am so very sorry!" she stammered, pulling her hand from his. "It's just that – I mean… my mother always told me that a kiss was the best cure for any ailment – ah –" Her cheeks were red with with embarrassment, and his were even more so.

That was when he truly _looked_ at her. He recognized her as the girl who lived a few houses down from his own house, but had always seen her only from a distance. Upon closer inspection he saw that her eyes were a very warm brown, her nose ending in the daintiest point, her lips a smiling pink arc. Why, she was quite a pretty thing!

That last realization was accompanied by the funniest little tug on his stomach, as if something had jumped inside it.

And what was that playing around the corner of her mouth?

As he looked at it, the funny tugs in his stomach increased in strength and frequency, as if the jumps had evolved into a full-blown game of hopscotch. He stared at the elusive something for the longest time, until the girl "ehem"-ed not-so-subtly.

"Well, I have to go now," she said as George shook his head to clear it.

"Ah… it was nice to meet you, Mary Cullen," he grinned sheepishly.

"Mary will do… George." She smiled again, ever so sweetly.

"Alright… Mary." And the two parted ways.

That night, he sat in his room examining his injured hand by the light of the candle, hoping that even a smidgen of Mary's kiss remained that he may study it more thoroughly. But not a trace of it remained, and he was disappointed.

And so for the first of many, many times, as he fell asleep, he dreamt not of That Wonderful Place, but of Mary Cullen's Hidden Kiss.

-------

The night that Tinker Bell went away, he sat by his bed and brooded. He thought he had heard something tear as the fairy flew out the window earlier, and the sound was accompanied by a strange pulling sensation in his hand, the very hand that Mary Cullen had kissed three days ago. When he examined it once again by the candlelight, he saw that the scratch had healed, and he was pleased. But his pleasure was overcome entirely by a feeling of horror as he saw that against the wall, only the shadow of his sleeve was outlined. He panicked and ran to his mother, but when he got to the first-floor sitting room he saw that his father was there with her, and the two were conversing in low, strained voices.

"Why do you encourage that boy with those fancies of his? Can you not see how detached he becomes from the world?" his father was saying. George hid himself by the doorjamb as he listened.

"Oh, Morgan, he is just a boy! Let him have his fun." Mrs. Darling flicked her hand carelessly.

"Yes, he is just a boy _now_, but do we not raise our children to become sensible _adults_?" He lifted his cup of coffee to his lips and drank heartily.

"Sensibility, my foot!" his mother sniffed. "He'll have enough of that when he grows up, I'm sure." Indeed, she sounded like she was.

Mr. Darling was about to say something more, but Annie Darling raised her hand and said, "Say no more, Father. I believe you have had too much coffee. It is the coffee talking, I just know it." George heard the clink of china as his mother started to clear up the coffee cups, and then there were footsteps coming toward him. As quickly and as quietly as he could, he climbed up the stairs and went back to his room.

And then he slept, and he dreamed that That Wonderful Place had gotten itself a new name.


	8. The Winds Of Change

**Dreams and Shadows, ****by Mileharo Kerran**

**CHAPTER EIGHT: ****The Winds Of Change**

Tinker Bell and the boy had the most glorious adventures in Never Land. Time mattered little in that place so no one kept track of it. Who would bother with such a boring task when there were a lot of interesting things to find out about in that magnificently vast place?

The two of them went deep into the jungles and watched as the Fairy King wooed and won the heart of a particularly lovely little she-fairy. They observed the Indians dancing around their bonfires, and the boy admired the timbre of the dark-skinned people's war-whoops. From a distance they looked on at the affairs of the pirates, as they sang their pirate songs and searched for hidden treasures. The boy had wanted to take a closer look, for he was fascinated by their fearsome countenances, but the fairy was most adamant about keeping their distance, saying her sensibilities were offended by their hygiene, or rather, the lack of it.

And so for a very long time the boy and his fairy had fun in the Never Land, and they flew about with no real worries.

But shadows are truly the most unpredictable and mysterious things. Of course we all know by now that the boy Tinker Bell flew around with was not exactly George, but just a shadow of him. Tinker Bell did not know this fact, but the mermaids did, and they whispered amongst themselves and avoided the boy and his fairy.

The two had such fun in their explorations that they did not notice the changes at first. But one day the boy complained to Tinker Bell that the vines she had tied the leaves to his body with were starting to bite through his flesh.

"Hmp," Tinker Bell frowned in irritation. "I should have known those _babloobeebee_ vines could never be trusted…"

And so Tinker Bell rearranged the boy's leafy raiment, and the two forgot about the matter as they searched for new adventures.

But some time later, the new vines suddenly snapped as the boy laughed at a joke his fairy told him. His clothing fell off his body, and to Tinker Bell's surprise she saw the first blush of embarrassment blaze beneath his golden skin. He quickly jumped behind a tree to hide his nakedness. Tinker Bell was even more surprised at this.

"Why do you hide, Boy?" she asked with her eyes narrowed.

"I – ah… well… I don't know!" As he spoke the words, his voice broke.

_His voice broke_. And Tinker Bell only then understood.

Her boy was growing up.

-------

"Why, oh, why are my arms growing longer?" The boy agonized some time later. "Am I turning into an Octopus?" Nobody could ignore the fact that his voice was growing deeper and deeper with each day that passed. Tinker Bell no longer fixed his clothes for him; he would not allow it now.

In his sulks he went away by himself deeper into the jungle, and Tinker Bell did not bother anymore to go after him. After all, Never Land was his, for he was the one that best knew it, and it knew him almost as well.

Tinker Bell was at her wit's end trying to understand why it was happening. The boy was mad at her for not keeping her promise to never allow him to grow up. His attitude towards her became colder and colder, and the times he went off by himself became more and more frequent. And so the days of insouciant adventures and plays ended, and lately the Never Land's winds blew with a biting chill.

Tinker Bell approached the mermaids one day hoping they knew what was happening. They did know, for they knew all things dark and mysterious. And indeed it was a dark and mysterious thing to happen in the Never Land. But Tinker Bell never found out the reason, for once they saw her coming to them, they turned their scaly backs against her and slipped quietly into the seemingly unmoving waters of the lagoon.

The fairy gnashed her teeth and cursed the mermaids for the snubbing, poking her little tongue at their absent backs. She thought of what to do next, and then remembered her attempt at conversation with the winds a long time ago. In her desperation, she resolved to have a little talk with them once again, vowing to keep a better rein on her patience this time. If she had pondered a little bit more on the matter, she would have remembered that it was not truly the winds' replies nor her patience that gave her an answer that long time ago.

And so once again she found that dry root atop the cliff and held on to it as the winds blew. She exerted less effort this time at holding on, for it felt as if the winds' cold breath froze her tiny fingers against her handhold. With chattering teeth, she called once again for their attention, but this time, they did not answer her, in much the same way as the mermaids ignored her. It was as if the winds were not even speaking to each other, but muttering in monologues.

She pried off her numb fingers from the old root and left that desolate place in search of a warmer and more welcoming one, but everywhere she looked, she saw only more of the same bleakness. Even the dry leaves inside her cozy little nest seemed to crumple into their individual selves.

Never Land was growing old.

And her boy was growing up, and she could do nothing about it.


	9. The Pirates Of The Jolly Roger

**Dreams and Shadows, ****by Mileharo Kerran**

**CHAPTER NINE: ****The Pirates Of The Jolly Roger**

He hid himself by the shadows of one of the jungle's larger trees, as if he was a thing unworthy of being shined upon by the face of the Never Land's sun. He had learned a few curses from Tinker Bell, those forbidden words that he heard when she thought he was not listening. He used the baddest of them that he could remember as he looked at his body. He was transforming into an entirely different creature, and he was afraid of the changes. His arms and legs were disgustingly long and bulged at the queerest places. Hair was sprouting at the most inconvenient spots. Why, even his face was starting to become hairy! And when he spoke, oh, horror of horrors! The voice that came out of his throat was not his, for it rumbled deeply in the most alarming manner.

But these bodily changes were not the foremost in his list of worries. Lately he had noticed that he was having a difficult time lifting himself up into the air. Though he had grown outwardly, he knew that it was not his increased weight that was the cause, but some heavy thing that buried itself inside his chest.

Then it came to the point when he could not even lift himself an inch off the forest floor. As he recognized this fact the thing inside his chest became even more heavy, and caused new feelings to grow inside him. Feelings that were dark and painful which robbed his eyes of their stars, replacing them with the coldest shards of ice.

By this time he had resolved to never see Tinker Bell anymore. That lying little imp! She had promised him he would never grow up, but he was doing exactly that. He took to stomping about the forest floor, hacking away angrily at the underbush with a sturdy stick he had fashioned from a fallen branch.

It was during one of these days that he came upon the pirates. They were making their way through the forest in search of an Indian village to ransack, singing their crude songs in off-key voices. By force of habit he hid himself behind a tree as he watched them with his cold eye. He had never seen them this close, and in this distance he could see how very different one pirate was from another. One was old and toothless; another held a blade between his teeth; another had a ring through his large nose; another one's skin was covered with the most curious assortment of patterns.

But despite all of these differences, he recognized there was one thing common to all the pirates.

They were all men.

Like himself.

-------

He sprang out of his hiding place, and suddenly they were all upon him, their knives and teeth bared and gleaming. He struggled against them, but he had no weapon with which to defend himself, and soon he was overpowered. They cursed and snarled like mad dogs as they bounded back to their ship with their prisoner, who bounced above the shoulder of an ebony-skinned giant. He could do nothing in his discomfort but bite the gag they had stuffed into his mouth, as both his arms and legs were tied rather too tightly together.

Upon reaching the shore, they threw him roughly on the floor of a rowboat, and then they were on their way to their ship. As they approached it he saw its black flag waving forbiddingly in the air. He savored the tangy essence of the sea winds as they whipped about his face, and wondered how he could have endured all that time inside the forest with its stuffy humidity.

The rowboat bumped gently against the side of the ship, and once again he was draped over the shoulder of the black giant. Again he was thrown roughly to the floor, and he landed most painfully on his side. He looked on as the dirty boots – and some dirty bootless feet – parted and gave way to a pair of relatively cleaner ones attached to rather short, hairy legs.

"Boys, boys! Not too roughly!" a voice admonished almost in a motherly tone, but in a man's voice. He looked up past the short legs and a bulging middle right into the bespectacled face of a small old man.

"Why, hello there!" The man smiled kindly at him, as if he was not squirming like a fish out of water on the floor. He glared back coldly, but it was lost on the jolly old man. "Welcome to the Jolly Roger! I am Cap'n Smee… well, not exactly Captain, but you see, we've got no real captain now, but we took a vote and agreed that I was the most captain-ish of us all. Am I right, you mangy dogs!" The last was roared in a voice which more or less exactly failed to come across as fierce.

But the other pirates nodded stupidly, and some roared back enthusiastically, "Aye, Cap'n Smee!"

The not-exactly-captain person addressed him once again. "What is your name, sir?" There was the longest silence as he waited for an answer, but the prisoner only stared back. Then one of the pirates ventured in an unsure voice, "Uh… Cap'n Smee… the gag?"

"Oh, yes, yes," Captain Smee stammered as he fumbled with the gag's knot.

He spat as the gag was removed, and gnashed his teeth fiercely at the pirates. "I have no name," he growled. "My fairy calls me her Boy."

Some of the pirates snickered, and the one with the ring through his nose put his thumbs together and waved the fingers about, in a way which reminds one of a fairy's wings. "Ooh, little fairy!" The voice was high-pitched and mocking.

He bristled at this, and his eyes glowed red with hatred. With a sudden burst of strength and speed, the ropes broke and he was free. Only a gleaming blur was seen as he managed to unsheathe a sword from the nearest pirate, and then with a sickening sound it went through flesh, and the nose-ringed pirate was no more.

The others backed out in horror, gasping as one. "Does anyone have more to say?" He said, each word dripping with venom as he held the sword out.

"N—no – no more, Captain – I mean – " Smee held his shaking hands out, as if warding off the sword that was being moved dangerously close to his own nose. Even the stupidest of the pirates who heard their Captain Smee speak these words realized the significance of the concession of the title, albeit unconsciously.

And that was how the pirates of the Jolly Roger found themselves a new Captain, a proper Captain, with no more need for voting, for there was no doubt that one whose eyes could glow as sinisterly red as those of this daunting figure before them did is proper captain material. Never mind that he knows little, if any at all, of seafaring. That could be learned in time, but making one's eyes glow red is not something one can learn by practice.

But what of his name? No pair of eyes, no matter how keen, could find in him a trace of the essence of the Boy that he was before. For the longest time, he was simply addressed as Captain, but that one word was enough to send the sturdiest of the pirates' knees to knocking.

The mermaids were the first outside of the ship to know of the new captain, and they whispered amongst themselves. When the fairies learned that this new captain of the pirates held an exceptionally deep hatred for their kind, they avoided him and his crew at all cost. The Indian tribes held secret meetings about how to better protect their villages from the increasingly cruel attacks and plundering.

And the Never Land's winds blew ever colder.


	10. Forgetting In Never Land

**Dreams and Shadows, ****by Mileharo Kerran**

**CHAPTER TEN: ****Forgetting in Never Land**

She had lost her Boy. At first to himself, and then to the jungle, and then to the pirates. Her heart was broken, and the chill winds of the Never Land played at the shattered pieces. Yes, she knew it was her fault that Never Land was changing. After all, she did come to London and then brought the boy here. Nobody else could have dreamed of doing that. Nobody else could have given in to their curiosity like that, for nobody else could have been as curious as she had been.

So once again she flew way, way higher than any other fairy or bird in the place ever had, and allowed that line or point or curve to pull her into it. If the answer could not be found in Never Land, perhaps it was because it hid itself away in London.

Deafening bang. Dancing colors. Frozen fairy lights. Cold night in London.

She had almost forgotten the way to the boy's house, and time had changed the landscape a bit, that the fairy had a hard time locating the house. But when she got there and looked through the windows, she saw no sign of the boy. There was only an old man and an old woman, sitting by the fire. Tinker Bell was confused, that she did not even notice the special sparkle that lit up the woman's eyes as she stared at the dancing flames.

So she flew away from the window and looked at many others, hoping to find a clue. But she could not, for she did not know what it was she was looking for. And the night aged, until the sun's pink fingers chased away its remnants over the dawn's horizon. Nothing more could be found out this time, so the fairy went once again to the park, where she found her tree once more, with its cushion of dry leaves that welcomed her tired wings.

-------

"Peter! Oh, you naughty, naughty boy! What have you done to your brother?"

Tinker Bell woke up to this angry outburst, and peeked over a branch as she rubbed her eyes. A woman was holding on to the wrist of a very soaked and muddy little boy, who had on his face a most forlorn expression that Tinker Bell could clearly see even beneath the mud and water running down from his brown hair. But it was not this boy that the seething woman addressed, but the one that ran around them like a wild creature, with his arms stretched to his sides like the wings of a bird.

"I was just teaching him how to fly, but he's just too stupid to learn! Whoowhooo!"

_He knows how to fly_? Tinker Bell's pointed ears perked upon hearing this.

The younger boy bawled even louder upon hearing his older brother's taunts, and the woman tightened her grip even harder on his wet sleeve. "Ooh," she hissed. "It's not a wonder those other nurses never lasted! You're just about the most exasperating little devil I've ever had the misfortune to meet!"

"Why, Nursie!" The boy's green eyes widened in mock horror. "What shocking language! You hurt me, Nursie," his face crumpled in feigned distress. "Was it my fault that Marty flew straight into the water? If he wanted to play at being eels, he only needed to tell me! We could have been eagles some other time!" He sounded as if he was the injured party.

"I have had enough! I quit! Come on, we are going home! Ooh, wait till your father hears about this!" Nursie walked off in a huff, dragging the poor, bedraggled Marty with her.

When the offender heard the last part, he took off in the other direction. But careless Nursie did not notice this, for she was busy fussing over the still snuffling boy.

Tinker Bell dashed off after the boy. Surely someone who knows how to fly in this world must know what was ailing Never Land!

Tinker Bell approached the boy as he sat panting beneath the shadows of a tree. With the greatest caution she did this, because she could not tell if this one would squeeze her in his fist like that boy long ago with the grubby hand, or if he would cup her gently in his palm like her Boy. But then, she remembered, he was her Boy no more. She hardened her heart against the memory's pang.

When she crossed the boy's line of vision, he gave a gasp, not one of fright, but of the most exciting thrill.

"Tinker Bell! It is you!" Tinker Bell backed away as he enthusiastically jumped forward, his hands held out.

"You know who I am?" she asked warily.

"Why, of course! I've seen you somewhere…" His brows furrowed thoughtfully. "But I can't seem to remember where! Hahah!"

But Tinker Bell knew just where he did see her, for she saw it in his eyes.

Two bright stars.

"Have you come to take me with you?" he asked, his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth lifting up with hope. "Come on! Hurry, before Nursie comes back!" He gestured frantically for her to come forward.

There was the most ridiculous expression in the dumbfounded fairy's face. She shook it off, and asked, "Why should I? I do not even know you!" She was alarmed by the boy's presumptious pronouncements.

"Oh, yes! How thoughtless of me!" He stood up suddenly, holding his back stiffly, and bowed most formally. "I am Peter, Tinker Bell, and I am most pleased to meet you!" Of course, it looked perfectly ridiculous with his soiled shirt and tousled hair.

The sobriety drained out of Peter before the fairy could bow graciously back. His face once again broke into a wild grin. "_Now_, can we go?"

One can not help but be drawn into this boy's eyes, which shined with a light that could rival the _other_ boy's for brightness. There was something in the way he stood with his hands planted cockily by his sides which told Tinker Bell that though it was she that knew the way to the Never Land, _he_ would be the leader. And this childish arrogance of his attracted Tinker Bell madly, and made her adore him.

And so with a wild grin of her own, she simply said, "All right."

The boy crowed with delight, and whooped around like the Indians around their bonfires. "Come on, come on, Tink!"

Tinker Bell rather liked the new pet name, and loved the boy even more for giving it to her.

He suddenly ran away from the fairy up a small hill, shouting all the while, "Happy thoughts, Happy thoughts! No more growing up! No more Maths! No more baths! Whoopee!" As he shrieked the last part, he jumped high into the air, his arms flapping ridiculously by his sides, and Tinker Bell closed her eyes in horror, her hands coming up beside her head. But the boy's attempt ended not with the thud that Tinker Bell expected, but with a loud, resounding splash.

As Tink flew over the hill, she saw that Peter had been saved by the same pond his brother Marty had gotten a thorough dunking from. He came up out of the water, spewing water and mud from his mouth, and shaking both from his hair like a dog does after a bath. The fairy's worried expression faded when she saw the boy thrashing around the water in amusement, laughing uproariously at his own folly. And so Tinker Bell did her best to pull him out of the sticky, muddy bottom of the shallow end of the pond, holding on to his ear as she did so.

They could not fly away to Never Land immediately, for the afternoon sun was still high in the heavens, and the way could not be seen yet. So the two of them hid themselves in the shadows of the trees, in case Nursie came looking for Peter. And sure enough, she came some time later, calling out his name in frantic worry. Peter even heard his little brother's voice join in, shouting "Petah! Petah!" in a little-boy voice that tried its best to sound important. He almost slipped out of his hiding place at this, for though Marty was a pest sometimes, he was a good boy, and he was the one thing that Peter would miss most. But Tinker Bell pulled him back firmly by his hair, that all he could do was peep behind the dark trunk. The voices faded as Nursie and Marty walked off to search in another part of the park.

When the stars came out, Tink led the boy into the top of the small hill. Of course she knew now that Peter did not really know how to fly, but instead of pointing the fact out to him, she simply shook herself over him until her dust fell and clung to his still-damp clothes. When an inquiring look crossed his face, she simply said, "To help you fly." But proud Peter replied, "yes, I know," for he would rather get another thorough dunking than admit he didn't know.

So they followed the second star to the right straight on till morning and arrived in the Never Land, which Peter appraised with an approving eye as he pointed out the places to Tinker Bell. The sun turned its face to see this newcomer, and was pleased, that it spread its fingers and once again touched the very depths of the place. The flowers woke up at this warm caress and the trees reached up eagerly with their leaves that were once again green and alive.

And with the magic of childhood that Peter brought with him, the Never Land once again became the youthful bride whose blush remained ever sweet as she donned her dress of green and blue and gold. And all worries were once again forgotten as adventures waited in hidden corners to be found by the Boy and his Fairy.


	11. Forgetting In London

_A/N: I don't know what I'm doing wrong. Is this thing too danged boring? Maybe I'm not putting in enough dialogue. What do you think? Read and review, please. Thanks :)_

****

**Dreams and Shadows, ****by Mileharo Kerran**

**CHAPTER ELEVEN: ****Forgetting in London**

George Darling tried very hard to grow up to become a Respectable Somebody. He always knew that he would, even without his father's relentless reminders. But now he had a new impetus. A certain young lady who lived a few houses down from his own house smiles at him with her sweet, mocking mouth every time they met, and all he can do is smile back and stammer a "hello," for he is not a person who particularly enjoyed small talk. Even if he was one, he seldom, if ever at all, would have had a chance of putting it to use, as Mary Cullen was most often surrounded by her army of admirers.

He knew he wanted more than her sweet, mocking smiles if he was to have his peace, especially since the game of hopscotch in his stomach has developed further into a lively rendition of the quadrille. Yes, he must marry her some day, if only to ease his stomach's condition. Dreams of her Hidden Kisses were simply not enough.

He resented his ordinariness, for how could he ever win Mary Cullen if he could not even catch her attention for longer than a few seconds? Those dandy fops which insisted on following her around tried their very best to impress her with their flashy feathers and their wit, and it seemed that to some degree they succeeded, for Mary Cullen most liberally showered them with her sweet smiles. But he was certain that he had one thing which not one of those other boys had, and that was the memory of her Kiss. He had taken to stuffing his hand inside his pocket so the memory would not escape, and also because the shadow was still missing.

Now he understood his father's point in all those speeches. He knew he could never learn to strut about the way those other boys do, but he could learn something else that that certain lovely girl could come to admire in him. He thought of what a Respectable Somebody does to be respectable, and then came to the conclusion that becoming a Banker would certainly be respectable enough. He stuffed his head full of numbers, but at first he had a hard time going about this, for his mind was a clutter of leaves and sea spray and patches of blue sky and pirate booty and fairy dust.

And so he put away his childhood dreams in his mind's most secret drawer, which he then locked securely. He had no more time for distractions, and Never Land was such a huge place that he had a very hard time stuffing it all into that one small drawer. But somehow he did manage it, though sometimes a slip of it would persistently peek out and mess with the numbers he tried so hard to put in order inside his mind. But in time he had forgotten where he had put the key, so Never Land faded from his memory, locked up inside that drawer. And so faster than anybody else he grew up, as faster than anyone else he locked away his dreams, that he may faster than anyone else fill his head with numbers, that he may faster than anyone else win the lady's heart.

So when the time came that all the boys came calling at the Cullen's house for Mary's hand, they discovered that someone had gotten there already, and no more hands were being given away. They had all tried too hard to shine that they may be noticed, but Mary's eyes were drawn only to the one which cared the least about outshining the others. Of course, there was also the memory of that One Kiss to consider, for it lives not only inside the one it was given to, but inside the giver as well.

And then Wendy came. And then John. And then Michael.

And there never was a happier, simpler family.


	12. The Lights Of Never Land

_Sorry about that last "chapter". Thank you so very much for reading and appreciating this; you were so kind with your reviews. You were all right when you said it doesn't really matter if people were reviewing or not, but it still feels nice to know your work is appreciated. Hey Mike, you ask for a lot! heheh. I can't make chapters any faster than this, because I have school to be concerned with, and it takes me a lot of time making up the story, as it is hard for me to find words because English is not my native language. Anyway, just read and I hope you enjoy it! -- sincerely, M.K._

****

**Dreams and Shadows, ****by Mileharo Kerran**

********

**CHAPTER TWELVE: ****The Lights Of Never Land**

The pirates of the Jolly Roger spent many, many years sailing the grey seas and spreading terror over the lands. Their exploits grew more and more cruel under the brittle blue eyes of their Captain.

At first, when he knew so little of piracy, he turned to his crew for lessons, and learned much. There was something in the way his eyes glinted as he learned his lessons which told the seasoned pirates that though it was they that did the instructing, _he_ was still the leader. And this cold arrogance of his appealed to the pirates madly, and made them fear him.

He neatly tucked away these lessons in his mind, for there was much space in it that could be filled; there were no more sweet dreams that cluttered his head. He left them all in the jungle as he left the Fairy, and in time not even one small firefly of a happy memory remained to light up his heart.

He forgot everything about Tinker Bell and came to develop an unexplainable hatred for fairies, which he now only saw as irritating balls of light whose tinkling and chiming grated on his nerves. He never again saw the beauty of the forest, and its stuffiness almost made him never want to go into it, except that there was such a great potential of it yielding hidden bounty. He forgot everything good and happy about all things he knew as a boy, until only the bitter and ugly facets of them remained. And because no unhappy feelings could be associated with flying, he entirely forgot about it.

He came to love the darkness, for the ice in his eyes cannot bear the sun's golden touch. Even the stars in the night sky mocked him, but still he knew he had to endure the torture of looking at them, for stars served well in guiding him around the many corners of Never Land. The only glitter which appealed to him was the cold gleam of gold and the wicked winking of the rubies and sapphires which he surrounded himself with. It suited him perfectly that the Never Land grew old and grey and dark with him.

And so it irritated him greatly when early one morning, after a long night spent raiding yet another of the Indian camps, his sleep was disturbed by incessant pounding on the door to his cabin. He had not yet acknowledged the intruder, when suddenly the door flew open and in came Smee, his second-in-command. _He dares much, this old man_, the Captain thought as he raised bleary eyes to the doorway, pushing away sticky strands of long, dark hair from his bearded face. Or perhaps Smee was simply too stupid that he never knew the risk in rousing the Captain too early in the day.

"Sir," Smee said matter-of-factly as he walked to the side of his superior's large bed, "the sun is shining."

At first the Captain was too shocked by the ordinariness of this declaration, and he looked disbelievingly at Smee, who stood before him with his hands linked behind his back, swaying on the balls of his feet looking as irritatingly cheerful as usual. "You wake me up at this ungodly hour to tell me _that_?" The snap in his voice was almost completely lost in the hoarseness which coated it.

Smee only blinked for a moment or two, but before the Captain's ire could completely come to life, he said a little more firmly, "Cap'n, I meant tha' the sun is _shining_." His emphasis on the last word tapped on the Captain's fogged mind, and in an instant he was scrambling out of the tangled sheets.

So Smee was not so stupid after all. The sun _was_ shining brightly, and it alarmed the Captain so as he squinted his eyes against its unwelcome glare through the round windows. He could only stare, wondering why the sun all of a sudden decided to once again show its yellow face so openly to the Never Land.

It seemed that the sun also affected Smee, but quite differently from how it did the Captain, for the old man started whistling a merry tune which almost made the Captain's hair stand on end. "Shut up!" he roared. Smee jumped on his toes but immediately complied. "Do you know the reason behind our friend sun's sudden reappearance?" His voice was calmer now, but there was still an edgy quality to it.

Smee thought for a while, his brows furrowing, but then he said, "No, Cap'n, can't say I do."

There was nothing they could do but stare at how the sun slowly warmed the grey seas into a calmer blue. The sight of the many-hued flowers suddenly blooming on the distant shore did nothing to improve the Captain's temperament; rather, it did the exact opposite. The other pirates were thankful that day, for they did not have to endure their Captain's razor tongue or his steely gaze; their leader had stayed brooding all day inside his cabin, his boots going a steady thud-thud-thud as he wore a path on the wooden floor.

But the strained silence was broken that night when the Captain roared for Smee. The other pirates exchanged nervous looks, for nothing good ever occured when the Captain was in a state as he was in today.

Smee timidly knocked on the Captain's door. Even his armor of optimism was pierced by the Captain's strange mood. A chillingly soft voice bade him to enter. As Smee's eyes adjusted to the darkness, they widened at the sight of the Captain, sitting so calmly in his chair with one knee thrown over the other, for on his hands dangled a wicked-looking blade, and Smee trembled with fear.

"Ready the crew, Smee," the Captain said in the same chilling voice, and there was no amusement in the half-smile that lifted his lips. "We are going to have a little chat with the mermaids."


	13. Pan

**Dreams and Shadows, ****by Mileharo Kerran**

_Hello! Once again, thanks for the reviews, Simirit Lyons, Yuki Asao and all the others. In answer to S.L.'s question, I am from the Philippines, and I could rival George Darling for ordinariness. All I know of English is what I read from books (you almost can't make me _speak_ in English, heheh). Anyway, just read and enjoy and review, thanks!_

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN: ****Pan**

Shielded almost on every side by high walls of craggy stone, the lake lies ever still and silent, the air above it hanging dark and thick, that even the sun had long ago given up trying to wiggle its fingers through the heavy mist. Seldom do any foreign eyes venture to peer into the gloom, as most of the creatures kept well away from the mermaids' lair.

High above that dark cradle, the winds blew wild and shrilly, once again delighting themselves with secrets, caring not if anyone heard, for they spoke in a tongue which almost no one else understood anyway, or even leastways bothered with.

But secrets have a way about them which allowed them to trickle unnoticed through crevices in the rough stone too deviously hidden to be seen by the careless eye. The result of this was that the darkest and most mysterious secrets hiss between the cracks and issue forth into the vast halls of stone and still waters below as hauntingly melodious echoes. The mermaids glide silently, their tiny ears strained in an attempt to understand the strange music from above. Their eyes have long before melted into a deep, deep black, blacker even than the gloom veiling them, wide open but almost never seeing nor blinking in their immersion in deep thought.

The mermaids' dark ways and obsession with all things mysterious made the other inhabitants of the Never Land most wary of them, for though they never actively perpetrated evil, they were still very strange, too strange even for a place such as the Never Land. Even the pirates of the Jolly Roger were more than a little uncomfortable at the prospect of seeking the water-dwellers that day, but their fear of the Captain was far greater, that they had no choice but to row with trembling hands into the lightless caves.

Indeed, the Never Land was such a curious place, full of the strangest things, and Smee's ability to understand many of the languages spoken there was just one of those unexplainable facts. It was another well known fact that though the pirates were a fearsome lot, they were also stupid for the most part, so nobody minded that the fat old pirate understood, for he would be no threat to them. But that was then, before the pirates got themselves a new Captain, one whose glittering eyes surely reflected the sharpest of minds which would know how to use all kinds of knowledge to his advantage.

And so when the light from the lamps borne by the nervous pirates impudently permeated the gloom, a frantic splashing could be heard as the mermaids scrambled to get out of their way, though no trace of fin nor scale could be seen in the dancing shadows. The Captain had anticipated this reaction, and so he urgently hissed instructions to Smee.

For some reason, the old pirate thought it necessary to take off his glasses and wipe them against the front of his dirty shirt as he loudly cleared his throat. When the glasses were once again perched on his rather large nose, he called out, sounding like a mother calling her children to dinner, "Oh, mermaids, the Captain is here to see you. He only wishes to have a few words."

When only silence answered this cheerful greeting, the Captain growled to his second-in-command, "In their language, old fool!"

"Oh, of course, yes, yes," Smee stammered. He opened his mouth and a strange melodious lilting poured out from his throat, interspersed with sharp clicks of his tongue which echoed against the damp walls.

A head bobbed out of the water just in front of the rowboat where the Captain and Smee stood. The creature before them had long black hair, sleekly clinging to her finely-boned face. Grey skin thinly stretched over smooth flesh gave the illusion of transluscence, and the eyes that looked back were deep pools of black, wherein hostility swirled for all to see. The mermaid answered in kind, though the sounds which came from her were far more hair-raising than Smee's attempt.

"Well?" the Captain impatiently demanded, one eyebrow raised as he pinned Smee with his gaze. "What did she say?"

"I… ah… well – "

"Is my question too difficult for your small brain to understand? What - did - she - say?" The Captain's lips were almost unmoving as he spoke each word tightly.

"She… ah… Shesaidweweren'twelcomeandshouldn'thavecomehere … !" Smee rushed out in a single breath.

The Captain directed one of his humorless smiles to the mermaid. More faces have appeared out of the water, and all of them bore varying expressions of wariness. "Tell them, Smee, that I commend their courage in greeting the Captain of the Jolly Roger and his pirates with such rudeness."

The obedient Smee did just that, and an outraged mermaid scooped some water in her webbed hand and flung it at the Captain. But before the clammy arm could touch the water again, it had been grasped by the Captain's unforgiving hand. In a burst of strength, the Captain single-handedly dragged the poor mermaid half into the rough wooden bottom of the boat, and the mermaid could only flounder helplessly against the Captain's unshakeable grip. In another lightning-fast move, a sharp sword was held against the mermaid's neck.

"My patience has run out, little fish. You will tell me what I need to know or we'll all know shortly if mermaids' pale veins do in fact hold blood in them." The eyes that were normally ice blue were now a deep shade of blood-red. "Tell me why the sun is out and the ice is melting, and I may yet spare you your pitiful life."

Smee translated rapidly, taking pity on the poor creature, who wailed back an answer in terror. Tears have begun to pour down her face as the Captain listened to Smee's reply.

"She only says 'Pan,' Captain."

"What is 'Pan'?"

There was another exchange of lilts and clicks, and then, "It's not a what, Sir; it's a who."

"Who, then, is this 'Pan"?"

Lilts and clicks.

"She says the winds go on and on about the Pan who flies around in the jungles and coaxes the flowers to bloom and the leaves to reach out to the skies, and all the fairies follow him and do his bidding -- !"

There was a moment's silence, save for the hoarse gasps of the captive mermaid, as the Captain thought about what he had heard. "His, you say? A man?"

"A boy," Smee corrected.

"A boy…" A vague image of a little person flying over the warm jungles came into the Captain's mind. He had lived for so long with his pirates that he had forgotten what a boy exactly was, and his brow crumpled in deep concentration as he attempted to recall the blurred image.

When his eyes lifted, they were once again blue, and he thought at first that the shadows were playing a trick on him, for on the mouth of the cave, outlined by the faint light of their lamps, a figure was floating in mid-air, and a ball of light flew energetically around it. An unexplainable wave of emotion and remembrance crashed though the Captain, and at once the image clicked on his head. A boy! This was a boy!

This was the Pan who had roused the Never Land sun and woke up all the flowers.

And then the boy crowed once, and the pirates jumped in surprise.

"Hullo, pirates! I meet you at last!" Even in the darkness the smile was carried by the loud voice, though the men could not see it. More than that, the youthful exuberance shot daggers through the Captain, and he keenly felt every single point pierce through his chest, that he thought real bullets actually pierced him.

The laughing voice continued, "Tsk, tsk, picking on these lovely ladies? Ow!" The last was uttered as the ball of light, which suddenly turned green, hit the boy's head with a smack and a tinkle.

The gloom was too thick and the boy was too fast, that only a blur could be seen as suddenly, he was right in front of the Captain. For an endless moment cold blue eyes glittered against warmly laughing green ones, and the Captain stood frozen in surprise. And then a grubby hand was raised between the faces, and the middle finger was suddenly flicked hard against the Captain's nose. In the sharp pain the Captain stumbled back, and with an "Aaarrghh!" and a splash the Captain had fallen overboard.

The boy whooped around in glee, kicking his legs as he somersaulted in the air. The other pirates had snapped out of their surprised state and suddenly, the air resounded with gunshots and the swish of knives being thrown. But through all this the boy only laughed harder at the pirates' furious and disbelieving expressions. In all the commotion the captured mermaid managed to slip quietly into the water, and then she and her friends disappeared from the surface.

The Captain spluttered in indignation, but before he could clamber out of the freezing water back into the boat, the boy was flying away, and his laughter and his crowing was slowly becoming more and more faint, until at last, only the echo of "Till we meet again, pirates!" was left of him.

And the Captain could only shake in cold and anger and roar after the boy, "Come back! Come back and face me like a man! You'll pay for this, Pan!"


	14. The Something That Belonged To Him

**Dreams and Shadows, by Mileharo Kerran**

_Sorry it took so long to update this story, but I've simply had no time; I was busy with a lot of other things. Thank you, once again, everyone, for the reviews, and thank you for the recommendations; it's really sweet of you, DemonQueen666. So there; just read and review, but most importantly, enjoy! :)_

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN: The Something That Belonged To Him**

"Fight him like a what?" The amusement in Peter's voice was slightly tainted with uncertainty, though it never surfaced completely into his consciousness as they flew away from the mermaids' sheltered lake, the angry roar of the pirates' Captain still ringing through the crisp night air.

"A man," Tinker Bell replied with a giggle -- or a tinkle -- as her skin still flashed the colors of her glee and excitement from the last encounter.

Careless Tinker Bell. She had forgotten about her first boy who had turned into a man in her absorption with her Peter. And such a thorough absorption it was; in her eyes Peter became a light that never grew dim, that even when he wandered away from her line of sight -- and those moments were few and far in between -- or if she closed her eyes to sleep, his image remained persistently, his wind-teased hair gleaming, his sun-kissed skin gleaming even more, but it was in his eyes that the brightest glimmers shone, those two stars of undying light.

"Ah," was Peter's only reply. His face was etched with its almost-ever-present look of arrogant innocence. Or was it innocent arrogance? For though he did not understand, his lips lifted into a smug smile as if he did. But it did not truly matter to anyone, really, if Peter did or did not understand things, for he was a boy, _the boy_ of Never Land who was loved by all -- or almost all -- because of how he brought the Never Land back to life.

Poor forgetful Peter. He had forgotten what he feared the most in his absorption with his Never Land. And such a thorough absorption it was; in his eyes the Never Land was a verdant paradise whose hues never faded, that he could never get enough of its beauty even if he spent all his days burrowing through the fecund vegetation of its jungles or flying over the starkly jutting mountains or the fathomless seas.

"A man..." A vague image of an uptight, tense, and tight-collared figure came into the boy's mind. He had lived for so long with his fairy that he had forgotten what a man exactly was, and his brow crumpled in deep concentration as he attempted to recall the blurred image.

Tinker Bell noticed this as they flew, and she hovered close to his head and lay her hand in a gentle caress against her boy's forehead to tease away the furrow. "What is the matter, Peter?" she tinkled.

At this, Peter's face once again smoothed out into its usual youthful unconcernedness, for he did not wish to be troubled with troubles, and had taken it as his unconscious creed that the only way to deal with troubles is to just not deal with them at all. He simply did not have the time to waste on such useless emotions, for he would rather focus all his energies into learning even more of his Never Land.

But as the days passed, that one word echoed through the corners of his mind when he least expected it. Once, when he was in the act of sweeping away a spray of leaves hiding a particularly promising patch of shadow beneath it, his hand froze in mid-air as the memory of the word pierced his mind... _"fight me like a man... like a man... man..."_ Only the sharp pain of Tinker Bell's nails against his ear drew his attention back to the adventure they were currently playing. Peter only grinned his boyish grin and he was instantly forgiven. He never had any need to apologize, and that was a good thing, for he was never apologetic.

He convinced Tinker Bell that the Jolly Roger was almost as intriguing as the jungles of Never Land, and that the pirates were even more so. He did not need to say that the Captain was what drew him the most, for there was something in his new-found fascination with that dark figure that simply begged to be kept secret. But even Tinker Bell's distaste for the pirates' crude ways was not strong enough to resist Peter -- who could resist Peter? -- so that Tinker Bell found herself more and more often reluctantly following her boy as he peeked between large fronds and enormous treetrunks by the jungle's edge, where they could watch unobserved the pirates' ways. The Captain's ways.

There was something in the Captain that drew Peter's eyes... but he did not know what exactly it was. Was it those cold blue eyes, glittering cruelly even from that distance? Or that tight lip curling evilly as it spat out orders at the nervous but admiring crew? Or was it that something... that most elusive something... that made itself felt as the Captain waved his hands about? His hands... his... hand? Yes, something hovered around the Captain's right hand that was not for all to see... What was it? But Peter did not know.

All he knew was... _it belonged to him_.

-------

Why was it that as time passed, it did so in the most alarmingly unpredictable manner?

Time had become the Captain's obssession, for with every grey hair that he discovered in his thick mane of black hair, or with every fine line that carved itself into the skin of his face -- especially near his mouth, which was most often held in its tight frown -- the passage of time seemed to become marked in his mind as an ever present tick... tock... tick... tock... reminding him in that constantly mocking sound that he was growing old... old...

So he had made it a point that wherever he went, he brought with him his timepiece, hung by a chain around his neck, for then he would be at least comforted by the thought that the ticking was not only inside his head. It was an unlucky pirate that could not answer back immediately if the Captain asked what the time was. And those times that he asked were becoming more and more frequent.

-------

Even Tinker Bell did not know that Peter could move so fast. And no, Tinker Bell did not know either that Peter's face could contort into such a grimace of hatred, but that was exactly what the fairy saw in the splitsecond before Peter suddenly shot away from their cover.

And she could do nothing but shout his name.

-------

What it was exactly, the Captain did not know... a soft tinkle? But the sound that served to alarm him came too late. All he saw was a blur, and suddenly, his hand was pierced with the most terrible pain he had ever felt, almost more painful than the bitterness that pulsed through his heart time and again. Or was the pain really in his hand? He lifted his hand... but where was it?

The horror came before the anguished cry of pain, but when he cried, oh, what a terrible sound! The harsh wail made the sails of the Jolly Roger shake, as did the wooden planks beneath his feet, as did the pirates' frightened knees. What remained of his hand was a stump of flesh from which blood spurted alarmingly. The pirates could only stare in shock.

And then, one of them shouted, "Pan!"

The Captain had sunk to his knees, his mouth opening and closing in pain though no sound came from it, his eyes still riveted to the ghastly image before him. But when the name touched his ears, his eyes suddenly glowed as red as the blood still flowing in dark rivulets from his severed hand, and he forced himself to crawl to the ship's side and look in the direction the pirate was pointing to.

The air was yet again rent by another one of the Captain's roars.

"Paaaaaaaan!"

And then he fell overboard.

-------

He was flying too fast with the rush of triumph, of accomplishment that flowed through his entire body. Finally he had it in his hands! What belonged to him! Only to him! And nobody saw that terrible gleam that crossed the boy's eyes, for his back was to the pirates and to his fairy. He felt like laughing! Hahahah! But even as he laughed, something constricted inside his chest, and in his alarm the hand that held the thing that belonged to him suddenly shook violently.

And then the something that belonged to him slipped from his grip, and fell towards the water.

The boy's cry was almost as terrible as the Captain's had been.

Everything seemed to slow down as Peter looked back in horror, but before the bloody hand could touch the water, something rose from the glassy surface and caught the hand as it fell.

Snap.

The huge crocodile's jaws clamped shut over that something that belonged to Peter, and it was forever lost to him as the animal splashed back into the water. Peter thought he saw a satisfied curl lifting the ends of the monster's green lip as the tasty morsel touched its tongue.

But it was as if that brief moment of passion died as soon as the hand disappeared from his view inside the crocodile's mouth, and for a moment Peter wondered why he was in the air, and he wondered what the agonized screaming and the deafening gunshots below him was all about.

There came a whizzing sound as something flew through the air. It was a cannonball from Long Tom's metal bowels, but Peter neatly shifted a few inches to his left, that only his hair was ruffled as the cannonball flew past his head.

Only then did he notice the bloodied dagger still gripped tightly in his hand, and only then did the terrible magnitude of his deed dawn on his mind, and he was, for a moment, filled with the deepest shame. But Peter was a child, and he was one generally with even less remorse than was usual, so the only thing he knew how to do was wipe the smile off his face for a minute before he returned to where his fairy was by the jungle's edge.

And he was seen no more by the pirates that fateful day.

-------

The salty water tortured the Captain's ruined appendage anew as he became completely submerged, and he could do nothing but gurgle and snort at the pain, even as his blood quickly spread in a dark curtain around him. But his troubles were not in any way over, for as he broke through the surface gasping for air, he sensed something moving towards him. Something huge.

And then he saw it. Two yellow eyes glinting over the blue water.

It was upon him almost immediately, and the Captain thought it was surely his end as he felt something tug violently from his neck at the same time that he heard those massive jaws snap shut.

But it was not yet his time to part ways with his mortality. He was lucky enough that at that same time his crew had come to their senses and started firing at the crocodile, and one pirate was lucky enough in his attempt to save the Captain, for his bullet grazed the massive green snout, which was suddenly wrenched open as the crocodile let out its own pained growl. And then it was sinking into the water, and in another blink of an eye it was gone.

And the air was once again silent.


	15. Hook

**Dreams and Shadows, ****by Mileharo Kerran**

_Hello again, and long time-ish no see, heheh. Again, I apologize for the delay. It seems that an apology is always in order, sorry. sigh Anyway, here is the next chapter, just read, review and enjoy -- you know the drill . Thanks. :) -- M. K. _

********

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN: ****Hook **

He did not know that his chest could constrict so much tighter, that it could crush what was left of his battered heart so much more, but that was exactly the case. Strangely enough, he was aware that it held so much more in it: now all the corners of his heart were perversely invaded by the darkest hatred.

Oh, how he hated that boy. His very existence was an affront to the Captain, in how he flitted about with the fairies in the air, making fun of the Captain and his boys with almost a determined air – but no, you can never be quite sure, because he did it so easily, seemingly without effort. He was the light when the Captain had become comfortable in his darkness, an unwelcome intrusion which made the Captain more aware of how deeply rooted he had become in his despair. Yes, he despaired, everyday, in fact, and every breath he took rattled with it, the coldness from within. And here Peter danced, mocking him every which way, making him feel like a traveller lost in the wintry night, looking into a window that was barred from him whilst the light of the fire jumped in the boy's eyes inside the warm house.

Oh, how he hated the boy.

-------

For the next few days, the Jolly Roger was in a state of panic. The pirates could not even be sure if they were thankful that their cranky Captain was bedridden the whole time, that he was not able to terrify them with his unpredictable temper, or if they should be fearful that they were floating around in the ocean without their Captain's decisive commands. And so the other inhabitants of the Never Land were granted a blissful respite from the terrorizing acts of the pirates, though they kept a watchful eye on the black sail waving in the air with its forbidding image of the skull and the crossbones. (And how determinedly it waved, as if to say that though the master had fallen, he would be back up quite soon, and beware!) All of them were grateful to Pan, seeing him as a savior of sorts, though his triumph was not truly complete. If they only knew Peter's true motives at that time, they would have thought twice about giving their gratitude so easily.

But as it was, that little fact was lost into the hazy background, driven away by Peter's light. No one was to remember, not even Peter, though Tinker Bell sometimes felt that something was not quite right, when the memory manages to almost pierce her mind. In these times she would look at Peter as if for the first time, and wonder a little uneasily, but then her heart would reassure her and even make her feel a little bit foolish for thinking such thoughts of Peter. And though she laughed with Peter when they came by the Jolly Roger to mock the pirates, she was aware that it was somewhat a forced one at times. But Peter never noticed.

Smee tsk-tsked away as he listened to the boy laugh at them, and thought it rather irreverent of him to do so while the Captain was incapacitated and had no chance of fighting back – though, when you think of it, it seems rather funny to imagine the Captain flinging back insults in the same way Peter was handing them. No, the Captain did not fight like that. He fought with stealth, and with cunning, and neither Smee nor the other pirates would ever have thought it "irreverent" for their Captain to do it that way, when their enemies were caught unawares. So he and the other pirates fired away half-heartedly with their pistols and with Long Tom at Pan, knowing they actually had only a small chance of success, especially now that their leader was not his usual self.

He worried about the Captain, for the younger man had not left his cabin since that fateful day, and forbade them to intrude on his brooding, save for the times when Smee changed the bandages in his ruined hand. It was in those times that Smee noticed the tell-tale tracks of wetness in the Captain's rough cheeks, and, ever the obliging servant, Smee wiped them away with his own hanky and wrung the wettened cloth delicately over a small phial until the drops fell one at a time. Through it all no word came from the Captain's grim mouth; in fact, he did not even acknowledge the presence of the old man, but lay there, cold as a stone, and for all it was worth, as dead as one.

In some of Smee's rarer moments, he manages somehow to make good use of his mind, especially when it was abetted by his good heart – distorted though in its loyalties as it was. He thought of how to make the Captain the man he was before the tragic accident. Realizing that the boy's existence was the largest thorn in the Captain's side, he was almost disheartened in his attempt to cheer up the Captain, for how could he accomplish bringing down Pan without the Captain's leadership? Thinking about how to bring back the Captain by bringing down Pan without the Captain's aid was making Smee's head ache, so he veered his thoughts into another direction.

The other most pertinent reason, Smee reckoned, for the Captain's retreat into himself was the loss of his hand. How, indeed, would the Captain be able to conquer his worst enemy without the use of that good hand? Smee thought about the monster that took it, but the very idea of chasing it through the ocean's vastness was simply ridiculous, and he figured it would only cause the Captain more distress if they ever managed to catch the beast and slice him open only to find the hand in a state of decomposition. And even if it were fully functional still, Smee doubted that his skills in sewing – for he was the most skilled in that area amongst the pirates -- would be sufficient to put it back together. No, Smee acknowledged with a sigh, that was not the solution.

Perhaps they could find something to replace it? Yes, that possibility held more promise. So in the light of day, in the company of a few of the other pirates, Smee took himself off into the islands of Never Land, searching for something with which to replace the lost appendage. And it was in one of their craftier circles – for they had many such connections – that they managed to locate a smith with a curious assortment of metal devices and whatnots, oddly shaped contraptions whose purposes were unidentifiable, and they had him make the Captain his new appendage, but before they made a decision debated – though debated would probably be too mild a term -- on what it would be, and in the process almost destroyed the entire shop.

"Why don't we just get a new hand and have it affixed on the Captain's wrist?" suggested Noodler.

"Oho, why not, indeed?" scoffed Bill Jukes. "And I suppose you'd be happier with the Cap'n's hands as rightly and handsomely looking as yours, eh?"

The other pirates snickered at this, though noodle-brained Noodler did not take offense, thinking rather it was a compliment from the tattooed one to call his hands handsome. He held his backward hands up in the air and eyed them admiringly, and smiled a little.

"A scimitar, perhaps," interrupted the gigantic black man in a pronounced accent as he unsheathed his own and brandished it about, managing to slice off a few leather thongs holding up some of the contraptions against the ceiling and causing them to fall with bangs and clangs on the ground, "so the Captain needn't trouble himself with pulling out a weapon when he needs it most?"

"Idiot," crackled Alf Mason, "A right-good scimitar'd be too troublesome unsheathed all the time, and the Cap'n'd prob'ly slice off his own foot unthinkingly, and then where would we be?" He pulled out two pistols from the waist of his dirty trousers and gave two shots, just to demonstrate. "A pistol'd prob'ly work better, and it's far more handier," he said, and then fired two more shots into the ceiling for effect, hitting one of the other contraptions there and damaging it beyond repair. The smith was, by this time, glaring at them in irritation.

The other pirates gave their own suggestions, pulling out their own choice of weapons to emphasize their points and ruining more and more of the shop's wares as time passed. The slightly built shopkeeper was at his wit's end now, but he feared rebuking them, lest it was his own neck they practiced their weapons on next.

Finally, Gentleman Starkey, who had been quiet for the entire time, looking around the shop with a careful eye in hopes of inspiration, spoke. "Boys, what we need is something not too cumbersome, something small, yet forbidding all the same... perhaps something like... that one?" And with that, he raised his pointed hand to the wall.

And there it was, and the pirates fell silent, their gesticulating hands stopping in mid-air as they looked at it and recognized the wisdom of Starkey's words. Yes, it was perfect, and they wondered how they could have missed it. The gleaming metal, with its curve perfectly formed, ending in a sharp point which winked at them in the distance.

They gave a little cheer – and the smith did so, too, in quiet relief – and the hook was brought down from the wall and passed admiringly from hand to hand, held up in the light every which way as the pirates examined every perfect inch of it. Finally, they commissioned the smith to make the contraption which would hold it against the Captain's wrist, as well as more hooks, and paid him a handsome sum in return. Oh, what a rare day it was when the pirates' plundering ways were subdued in their hopeful anticipation, and the smith was a lucky one to see this side of them.

They were happily nervous as they rowed back to the Jolly Roger, hoping that the Captain would like their gift, and hoping even more that it would break his dark brooding and be the one they looked up on once more for direction. Smee was rewarded by the smallest half-smile curving up the Captain's mouth as the gift was presented, and the pirates waiting outside hoorayed as the Captain appeared on his cabin door, fully dressed in his rakish attire, raising the gleaming hook in the air and declaring, "Get up on your legs, you mangy cur; we've a Never Land to conquer!"


End file.
